Some said burning was the most painfull way to die. Some thought drowning was the worst way to die. All said sleeping was the most peacefull way to die. Those people were not smart.
They observed my every move, listened to every word that I put to life, judged every breath I processed. While they observed me while I observed the Sun and the Moon. One night standing on bridge, one night when the lake looked like deathbed, one night when drowning called my name; I saw the Sun get murdered. No one saw anything or at least didn’t speak. How could they not see? The sky was painted with the blood of the Sun. I looked around looking for help. Then I saw to guys. One who must’ve been death come to life and one who must’ve been the Moon. The Moon dragging death next to me watching his wife die. I know what he would’ve asked : How could I stand there and just watch something so vigilante happen? And then I screamed crying for help. No one turned around but I know I was shouting. The people who laughed when I tripped, and judged when I smiled were to busy doing nothing. Passing by me like I was not screaming my lungs out. I thought am I whispering.
Then I realized my screams were silenced by the god of the night. The stronger I screamed the more the moonlight flickered. Nobody judged me anymore nor did they came to help. And it was settled silent screams was to worst and best way to die.